


South Bend Boxing Club

by noodlevault



Category: Original Work
Genre: Boxing, F/F, Slice of Life, idk what to tag this lol it's just some creative writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24935125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlevault/pseuds/noodlevault
Summary: Summer is a school delinquent that put her talent in fighting to good use when she graduated. She's been with the boxing club for four years, training under Coach Spike Smith. She's a promising student- having quite the number of wins under her belt for an amateur boxer. One can only wonder what shenanigans you can get into.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Kudos: 10





	1. California Brawlin'

The buzzing of Summer’s phone on her nightstand wakes her up. She blocks the noise of her phone out, snuggling up closer to her Shiba Inu, Mango. He lets out a sniff as she shuffles him closer, licking her face.

“Fine, I’m awake...” Summer yawns, laughing softly as Mango cranes his neck to give her more dog kisses as she sits up. She grabs her phone off the nightstand, squinting at the screen. Aside from the clock reading 10:05 a.m., she has three missed calls from her coach, Spike.

“Uh-oh…” She opens his contact, calling him. He picks up almost instantly.

“Where are you?” 

“Uh… At home?” Summer squints, racking her brain for an explanation of his aggressive tone. 

“Summer, you have a match tomorrow! I don’t see you training!” _Oh. So that’s why._

“That’s tomorrow? Coach, I’m so sorry, I-”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses. You better be at the gym soon, Summer. Start warming up the moment you get here.” He promptly hangs up on her, and she lets out a sigh. Mango hops out of bed and stands next to the closed bedroom door, starting to whine at her.

“You’re such a crybaby, Mango…” Summer rolls out of bed, walking over and opening her door. Mango runs in front of her as she yawns, shuffling over to her kitchen to make herself some late breakfast. Summer knew she was supposed to be in a rush, but considering she just woke up three minutes ago, she decided to give herself some downtime in the morning before spending most of her day in the boxing gym. 

After treating herself to a bowl of oatmeal and some morning playtime with Mango, she changes into the proper attire for the boxing gym and zips up a thin jacket over her sports bra. It wasn’t cold outside- in fact, it was a warm California morning- but she hoped it would deter any potential catcallers on her bike ride to the gym. She was surprised that it had become a problem- assuming that it was just an isolated incident at first, but it was unsettlingly common whenever she left the house. Nonetheless, she didn’t have time to dwell on how it affected her self image since she had an impatient coach waiting for her to arrive at the gym. So Summer gave Mango a few pats and said goodbye, heading out on her bike.

  
  


“Yo, Jada!” Summer spots her friend in the building as she walks inside. Sweat drips off Jada’s forehead from vigorous training as she leans over to drink from the water fountain. Summer runs up behind her, tackling her into a hug.

“I’m dehydrated and sweaty. I don’t know why your first thought is to hug me.” Jada doesn’t bother to lift her head, knowing Summer was the only one who saw through her hostile facade. She continues sipping water from the fountain as Summer awkwardly holds her as she’s leaned over.

“You’re still huggable.” Summer murmurs, playing with the bandana tied around Jada’s head.

“Are you calling me fat?” Jada hissed. 

“I’m the chubbier one here, Jada. Maybe you’d know if you hugged me back.”

“Hmph. Anyways, heads up. Your coach is coming and he doesn’t look happy, so good luck with that.” Jada lifts her head back up as Summer lets go of her, heading back to the punching bags. 

“Don’t leave meeee...” Summer whines, chuckling to herself as Jada pretends to ignore her. Spike walks up to her, shoving her boxing gloves in her hands.

“Ten minutes on the jump rope, followed by twenty squats. After those, twenty pushups and forty crunches. That’s your warmup. I don’t want to see you stop and start complaining in between sets. You’re not a ten-year-old that’s forced to take classes here because his mommy told him to, so ACT LIKE IT.” Spike crosses his arms as Summer mutters a complaint, shrugging off her jacket.

“I understand, Coach...”

After Summer completes the warmup, she’s immediately taken to go practice shadowboxing. She stands on the open mat that reeks of socks, boxing gloves on, sparring her imaginary opponent.

“Your stance is awful. Fix it.” Spike calls from where he’s standing. Summer obliges, shifting her feet shoulder-width apart. She continues jabbing.

“MOVE MORE! You’re gonna get struck down instantly if you keep standing like that.” Spike yells. Summer starts hovering around the mat, circling her invisible foe. She sends in a few quick jabs and cross hooks. Spike didn’t yell at her for those, so she must have been doing something right. 

The three-minute shadowboxing rounds repeated five times until Spike decided it was enough, moving her on to the punching bags. Her whole body hurts and she’s sweating like crazy, but her training isn’t over yet.

“Work on your combos. I don’t want to see just jabs.” Spike crosses his arms as she throws punches at the bag. 

“DO AS I SAY, HOOK, CROSS, HOOK.” Summer hears her coach’s instructions, hitting the bag with the combo Spike called out.

“JAB, CROSS, HOOK.” 

“JAB, JAB, CROSS.”

“CROSS, HOOK, CROSS.”

“JAB, CROSS, JAB, CROSS, HOOK, HOOK.” Summer’s arms are on fire as she follows his instructions. She huffs through clenched teeth, furrowing her brow as she continues punching. The three minutes of the heavy bag seems to go on for eternity, but eventually, Spike doesn’t give any more instructions.

“Thirty seconds rest. We’re doing this five times.”

“FIVE- I, UH, YES COACH.” Summer ignores his glare; she knew he heard her complaints. 

“Make it six.” Spike narrows his eyes and Summer nods in defeat. For twenty minutes, she’s punching at the heavy bag using various combinations, ignoring the pain coursing through her arms. She’s panting like a dog when she finally finishes, leaning over slightly to catch her breath.

“We’ll finish this with 100 pushups, situps, and 200 squats. Rest as little as you can. If you’re not passing out, don’t stop. And I mean it.” Spike is relentless with his training, but Summer knows it’s all to help her for her match tomorrow. She doesn’t know her opponent, but she knows it would most likely be a difficult fight. 

  
  


“You’re done.” Spike walks over to Summer, leaning against a wall as she chugs water from her bottle. 

“When and where is the match tomorrow, Coach?” Summer pants.

“Stockton Boxing Club, 11 a.m. Be there at least fifteen minutes before. I doubt biking there is an easy commute, so I suggest getting a ride.” Spike checks his phone momentarily.

“Do you know who I’m up against?” Summer tilts her head.

“Claire Sanchez. Forty wins, six foot three, 182 pounds.”

“Seems fair enough. I have forty-two wins, I’m six foot two, and I weigh 180 pounds. Just another middleweight fight.” Summer grins.

“You’ve both made a name for yourselves. People are paying to see the match, excited to see who comes out on top. I know I don’t show it, but I’m proud of you, Summer. I’m glad you chose me to train you when you were a clueless 18-year-old that had no experience outside of school fights. There’s still traces of that clueless nature four years later, though.” Spike snorts.

“Hey! We were having a moment, come on!” Summer huffs, crossing her arms.

“I have another session soon, so I’ll see you at the match tomorrow. Get some rest and don’t sleep in.” Spike gets up off the wall, heading over to meet his other student. Summer yawns, looking for Jada in the busy gym, spotting her waiting her turn at the busy practice ring. She makes her way over.

“Heyyy, do you mind giving me a ride to my match tomorrow? Pretty please?” Summer leans over the railing that paralleled the area, giving her puppy eyes.

“Where is it?” Jada slips her boxing gloves on.

“Uhh, Stockton Boxing Club. I need to be there by at least 10:45.” Summer leans back on the railing. 

“That’s too far. Get someone else.” Jada keeps her eyes on the ring, watching the two trainees duke it out.

“I’ll buy you Chipotle afterward.” Summer offers. 

“...” 

“And frozen yogurt.” She adds.

“10:20 at your house, be ready to jump in the car the moment I pull up.” 

“Thanks, you’re the best! I’ll see you tomorrow!” Summer waves goodbye as she grabs her jacket, leaving the gym. She hops on her bike, muscles sore from training, and excited for what was to come. The rest of her afternoon was rather uneventful, she attended her college classes, walked Mango, watched some TV, and napped for a few hours. But the anticipation of her big match tomorrow lingered in the air, so she decided to hit the hay early. 

  
  


Summer’s alarm blares at her, and she shuffles to her nightstand blindly to turn it off. Mango whines, disturbed from his sleep. It’s currently 8:30 in the morning. She yawns, getting out of bed with Mango close behind. She gives him a few scratches on the ears before walking out of her bedroom. The floor of her house is rather cold, so she shuffles out with pink slippers previously chewed on by her dog. 

It’s rather quiet in the morning, the only sound being faint traffic noise and Mango playing with his toys. Summer finishes the breakfast she made for herself and goes to get dressed, sliding on a pair of boxing trunks with her name printed on the waistband. After she packs her bag she plays with Mango with the time she has left, waiting for the telltale sign of a car pulling up. Eventually, she hears a honk outside her door. Summer runs out with her bag, locking the door behind her.

“Have everything?” Jada looks her up and down as she hops in the passenger seat of the pickup. 

“Yup! Thanks for picking me up.” Summer holds her bag on her lap as Jada pulls away from the curb.

“You’re welcome.” 

  
  


They arrive at the boxing club. The parking lot is packed and people mill about outside. Spike waits by the door, searching the parking lot for his student. Summer hops out, grabbing her bag.

“Good luck. I’ll be in the crowd.” Jada gives Summer a nod.

“Thanks!” She goes to join her coach.

“I appreciate you being on time for once.” Spike huffs, leading Summer inside. She follows him to the practice ring, and she ducks in.

“How long should I warm-up for, Coach?” Summer hops from one foot to another, excited for the match that was happening soon. The crowd was already being let in, taking seats on folding chairs set up near the ring their fight would take place.

“I’ll give you five minutes. Then you need to get checked out by the physician before the fight and all that junk. Make me proud, kid.” Spike leaves her to warm up, and she finishes her session rather quickly, hopping out of the practice ring. She’s whisked away by the physician, getting her pre-fight physical and is asked the same questions to decide if she’s fit to fight. Summer is finally free to step up to the ring. Spike awaits Summer at her corner, handing her a mouthguard. Her heart races as she sees her opponent step inside the ring.

She’s a tall, brawny woman with thick black hair and a dark complexion. Her face is unreadable, and her brows are slightly furrowed. Her shoulders are broad and she stands firmly on two feet. Her posture is confident as she bites down on her mouth guard, wrapping her hands and sliding her gloves on. Summer swallows, but she doesn’t let her concern show. She flashes the crowd a grin, sliding in her mouthguard.

“Word is Claire’s a brawler, Summer. Be on your guard. Three rounds. Two minutes. Let's do this.” Spike murmurs next to her. Summer nods, taking a deep breath as her coach wraps her hands, handing her a pair of boxing gloves. She slides them on as the referee steps in the ring.

“Welcome everyone!” The referee calls on the microphone, “In the red corner, representing South Bend Boxing Club, we have Summer Anne Dunn!” The audience cheers and Summer swears she can hear Jada in the crowd. 

“In the blue corner, representing Long Beach Boxing Club, Claire Vanessa Sanchez!” The two walk up to each other as the crowd cheers, touching gloves. Summer nods in respect to her, and Claire reciprocates her action. After they share the age-old sign of respect, they return to their corresponding corners. Summer shifts between her feet as she waits for the bell.

It dings.

Almost instantly, they approach each other, and Claire throws the first punch. Summer blocks it, landing a punch on her side. Claire, although set back by the jab, sees it as an opening and lands a combo on Summer. She does her best to block the combo but isn’t very successful. Spike was right- Claire was an aggressive fighter. Summer couldn’t let the judges interpret her defensive strategy as weakness, so she doubles down and feints a jab. Claire raises her fists to block but is caught off-guard. Summer lands a kidney punch, and Claire starts to go on the defense. She starts landing multiple jabs on Claire, not letting up.

But all along, Claire’s sudden defensiveness was a trap. 

Out of nowhere, she’s hit with a heavy uppercut, and it takes all of Summer’s willpower not to fall on the ground. She grits her teeth, huffing, and staggering back. Claire uses this as an opportunity to take control of the round, landing jabs on her. Summer was running out of options, and fast. With her quickly decreasing energy, Summer grabs Claire and holds her in a clinch, rendering her jabs ineffective. The referee sees this tactic and starts yelling at them, breaking them apart. The bell rings before Claire can continue her barrage, and they return to their corners. 

“That clinch isn’t going to go over well with the judges, kid. Make up for it in these next two rounds. Knock her down.” Spike holds her water bottle for her as she drinks.

“I’ll try.” Summer pants, swallowing the last of the water and wiping her face with her towel. She stands back up the same time as Claire, and the referee makes sure they’re distanced before the bell rings. The bell goes off, and they’re off to round two.

This time around, Summer plays as aggressively as she can. She’s bobbing and weaving, circling Claire, landing jabs and cross punches. Claire adapts to her change in strategy, on the more defensive side. She starts retreating, and Summer closes the distance between them. Summer has got her backed into a corner, and she starts sending out a barrage of punches. Suddenly, Claire throws a sucker punch straight on Summer’s abdomen, sending her backward. It’s painful, but she won't let it slow her. Summer goes back in, landing an uppercut on Claire. Claire grunts, retreating, but Summer can’t go in for a third time before the bell rings once more. They retreat to the opposite sides of the ring.

“You can do this, Summer. Last round, knock her out.” Spike pats her face down with her towel, ridding her forehead of any accumulating sweat. Her face is red, she’s panting hard, and adrenaline courses through her veins. She gets up from her corner, handing the towel back. Claire meets her gaze from across the ring. Summer can’t tell what emotion she just saw in her opponent’s eyes for a moment, but she shrugs it off. The referee returns and the bell rings for the last time. 

Claire is on her almost instantly, jabbing and throwing cross punches. It was shocking how much endurance Claire had to be this aggressive in the third round, but Summer needed to end the round and end it quickly. She starts retreating, baiting Claire into going after her. The moment she goes in to jab her, Summer strikes the side of Claire’s head with the force of her whole body, leaning into the punch. Claire stumbles back, collapsing on the ground. Summer pants, stepping back as the referee starts counting.

“KNOCKOUT!” The referee calls as the bell rings, signifying the end of the round. Summer looks over her shoulder at her coach, who gives her a thumbs up. Claire eventually recovers, and the referee converses with the judges to receive the final scores. Summer and Claire are joined by the referee once he returns from his conversation, holding one hand each. 

“The results are in! By split decision,” The referee raises Summer’s hand, “Summer Anne Dunn in the red corner!” 

“LET’S GO SUMMER!!” Jada yells over the crowd, and she smiles when they make eye contact. She’s exhausted from the fight, but the sound of the audience cheering is so gratifying. Summer gives Claire a friendly pat on the back, thanking her for a good fight. Claire nods, smiling and returning the favor. Summer returns to her corner, laughing breathily as Spike ruffles her hair.

“Good fight, kid. Another win under your belt, eh?” Spike cracks a smile as Summer nods enthusiastically. After leaving the ring and taking a few photos with a couple of audience members, Jada meets up with her.

“So, you promised frozen yogurt?”


	2. My Opponent is Now my Ally- And Crush?

“It’s getting dark outside, Mango… We should go home.”

Summer sits on a park bench, watching her dog play in the grass. The city is still fairly busy at 8 p.m., but Summer wasn’t thrilled at the thought of walking home alone at night. She considered calling Jada to drive her back, but she already bummed a ride off her yesterday. So Summer just crosses her fingers, clipping Mango back on a leash and heading off in the direction of her house. She hoped she’d make it back without anyone on the street stopping her.

Unfortunately, she had no such luck.

About five minutes into her walk, a man starts trailing her a few paces away. At first, she assumed he just happened to be walking in the same direction, however, no matter what turn Summer took, he was right behind her. She clutched onto Mango’s leash tightly, looking around for the busiest place to detour to. But Summer was walking in the less populated side of her city- one that was unfamiliar to her. She looks around warily, knowing that he was right behind her. 

“Oi, are you lost? I can give you directions, heh.” The stranger behind her calls out.

“Leave me alone.” Summer hisses, eyes darting around, looking for a building that wasn’t closed or empty.

“Don’t be like that, honey. I can give you a ride, my car is back there.” 

Summer gags at the pet name, holding Mango’s leash closer to her. At this point, she’s completely lost, and everyone seems to have gone home for the night.

“Stop following me!” Summer shouts through clenched teeth, still looking for a way out of her situation. The restaurants and buildings are starting to turn into houses, but she’s not in her familiar neighborhood. Out of nowhere, the man starts running and grabs Summer’s shoulder. She cries out, elbowing the man, but his grip doesn’t last for long as she hears a door from the adjacent house slam open. 

Her attacker is ripped off of her and pinned to the asphalt by an oddly familiar woman. Mango is barking and howling by Summer’s side as she drops the leash, stumbling down. She watches with wide eyes as the woman pins him to the ground on his stomach, digging his head into the gravel.

“TRY ANYTHING FUNNY AND I’M GONNA BEAT YOUR ASS!” The voice of none other than Claire Sanchez cuts through the air. 

“THE HELL DO YOU WANT?” The stranger chokes out, trying to scramble up. Claire makes sure he’s unable to.

“YOU’RE BEING A CREEP, AREN’T YA? GOING AFTER WOMEN TRYING TO GET HOME WITHOUT GETTING ATTACKED BY WASTES OF SPACE LIKE YOU!” She has an iron grip on the man’s head, lifting it so she can make eye contact with him. Her eyes communicate pure fury.

“FINE, I’LL LEAVE! GET OFF OF ME!” Claire gets up, dragging the man off the floor and shoving him away from her. 

“Show your ass in this neighborhood again and I’ll show you what a concussion feels like!” Claire spits in his direction as he walks away. After Claire is sure that he’s gone, she turns, offering a hand to Summer.

“Claire?...” Summer takes her hand, slowly standing up. She’s breathing heavily from the recent altercation, and her knuckles are scuffed up. Mango sniffs at her feet.

“Summer? Are you alright? I should have noticed sooner, dammit.” She pants, looking Summer up and down for signs of injury.

“No, no- I’m fine- thanks to you that is. I don’t know if it was fate or just dumb luck that I ended up on your street.” Summer laughs sheepishly, but her heart still races. 

“I was about to ask that. What are you doing out here?” Claire dusts her hands off on her jeans.

“Well, I went out to get some dinner and walk my dog, then went to the park with him right as it started getting dark. I was on my way home until that guy showed up. I really can’t thank you enough for getting him off me, though.” 

“It’s a win-win. I get to beat up a creep, and you’re kept safe for the time being.” Claire chuckles softly. Summer realizes that she’s never heard Claire’s regular voice before. It’s gentle and soothing, like if honey could talk. Summer lets out a sigh, opening her mouth to say something, but is cut off by the voice of a child.

“Claire? What are you doing?” They both turn their heads to see a girl around thirteen peeking out the doorway, holding a penguin stuffed animal in one arm. Summer notes that the girl has a striking resemblance to Claire. 

“Oh, um, Maya, this is my friend Summer. Summer, meet my sister, Maya.” At Claire’s introduction, Maya waves meekly, looking between the two.

“Agh, where are my manners… Do you want to come in for a drink? Maya and I were just making some hot cocoa, but I can fetch you water, or tea, or maybe something boozy if you’re in the mood.” Claire offers, scratching the back of her head.

“Gosh, Claire, you’re too sweet,” Summer squats down to pick up Mango’s leash, “But are you sure? I mean, I think I can just walk home from here.”

“I just want to treat you to something nicer than being followed at night. I can even give you a ride back home if you’d like. But come on in, the cocoa is getting cold.” Claire laughs with a hospitable smile, and Summer swears she can feel butterflies in her stomach for a second. So she lets out a sigh, following her inside with Mango right behind. Claire’s home is warm and smells faintly of sweets. A pot of hot chocolate sits on the stovetop, accompanied by a glass jar of marshmallows and whipped cream.

“You were a challenging opponent, Claire. You’re a great boxer.” Summer sits down at the table, folding her hands in her lap. Mango takes a liking to Maya, and they play together in the living room while Claire prepares their drinks. 

“The judges didn’t think so.” Claire laughs, setting down the mugs of hot chocolate. She pulls out a seat, sitting across from Summer. They sip their drinks in peace, and Summer glances around her house. It’s small, cozy, and decorated nicely, but a display case full of trophies and flyers for fight nights catches her eye.

“You’re an underground fighter, huh? I was wondering why you were able to take down that guy easily.” Summer remarks, holding the mug up to her lips and taking a sip.

“I’m not proud of it, but the prize money is worth it. I need to support Maya and I somehow.” Claire sighs.

“I used to participate in underground fights when I was eighteen. I never won anything- I just went there to take out my frustrations on somebody.” Summer lets out a heavy sigh, “I would have still been fighting there if it wasn’t for the professional trainer that happened to show up to one of my bouts. He paid the front-row ticket price to take me out of there and give me a pair of boxing gloves, promising that he would teach me how to fight like a real boxer. To this day, he’s still my coach.” She takes another sip of her cocoa.

“Oh, that’s a cute story.” Claire laughs- and Summer’s stomach does flips again. “The prize money is really good, though. I made almost a thousand bucks on one particular fight night. This particular fight club I go to pays the winner generously.”

“A thousand bucks?!” Summer’s eyes go wide.

“Yep. Sometimes, even more, depending on the tournament. It helps pay the bills, ya know?” Claire shrugs. 

“Tell me more. How do I get in? I haven’t been to an underground tourney in four years, so I don’t recall how it goes.” Summer’s eyes sparkle as she holds the mug up to her mouth, listening keenly.

“Well, admission ranges from 30 to 120 dollars for audience members. But if you’re fighting, you get in free. I have some connections to the club, so I can put you in a tournament where you can win some cash.” Claire pauses, taking a sip of her hot chocolate, “But first, are you sure you want to start fighting underground again? This is virtually lawless boxing, Summer. The fights get nasty; the crowd cheers for spilled blood. The only rules are no hitting your opponent after they tap out, no eye-gouging, and no crotch shots. Bouts can range from evenly matched to completely one-sided.”

“Seems about right. C’mon, it’ll only be for a match or two. Sign me up.” Summer grins, and Claire smiles.

“Alright, I’m sure you can handle it. I’ll message the head of the club as soon as I can, and I’ll text you with info on your match. Speaking of which, can I get your phone number?”

“Of course!” Summer fumbles for her phone, almost dropping it. They exchange contact info. Summer watches Claire type in her number on her phone with a dreamy expression, studying her face while she’s looking away. Summer didn’t know what about Claire captivated her, but just hearing her contagious laugh and gentle voice made her feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“All done.” Claire’s voice breaks Summer’s daydreaming. She meets Claire’s eyes, sheepishly thanking her. Maya comes to their table to put their empty mugs in the dishwasher, then returns to playing with Mango. 

“I can’t thank you enough, Claire.”

“Pfft, it’s nothing, but I’m glad you’re okay. We’ll keep in touch later, hm?” She tilts her head, and Summer nods enthusiastically, “C’mon now. Tell me where you live, I’ll drive you there.” Claire gets up from the table, grabbing her car keys. Maya gets up and Mango follows, whimpering as he leaves her side.

“Thank you for letting me play with your dog, Miss.” Maya hands Summer the leash and shyly steps back.

“He doesn’t wanna leave you.” Summer laughs, and Mango continues pulling at the leash. She eventually gets him to leave, and she follows Claire to the car outside.

“I won’t be out for long, Maya. Lock the door, m’kay?” Claire waves to her sister and gets in the car. Summer makes Mango hop in the backseat, and takes her place in the passenger. They pull out of the driveway after Summer tells Claire her address. 

“So, um… do you live with your sister and boyfriend, I assume?” Summer asks, awaiting an answer to her real question.

“Ah, only my sister. I don’t have a boyfriend right now.” Claire chuckles, “Used to, though. He was a piece of shit.”

“Oh, well I’m glad you left him. That’s always good.” Summer idly folds her hands on her lap.

“Still gets lonely sometimes, though.” Claire sighs.

“I feel you. I only live with my dog.” 

“Yeah… would be nice to have someone to cuddle every once in a while.”

“Yep.” Summer side-eyes Claire, but she has her eyes on the road. The car falls silent until Claire speaks again.

“Well, here’s your stop. Stay safe when walking from now on, alright? I won’t always be here to deck somebody.” She laughs, slowing to a stop next to Summer’s house.

“Thank you so much, Claire. I’ll keep in touch.” Summer gets out, taking Mango with her. She waves to Claire before she enters her house, shutting the door behind her.

Summer lets out a sigh, tired, but happy. She makes her way to her bedroom, flopping down on the bed. Mango follows her, jumping on with her. She grabs her phone- it reads 9:13 p.m. Needing someone to talk to, she opens her contacts and calls Jada. After a few rings, she picks up.

“Summer? Why are you calling so late?” Jada’s voice is on the other line.

“I, uh… I need to talk to someone. A lot of stuff happened and my mind is kind of a mess right now.”

“What? Tell me.”

So Summer sighs, telling Jada a brief recounting about the man who followed her, Claire appearing to beat him up, and later when she took her inside for hot cocoa. She made sure to leave out the parts of Claire being an underground fighter and Summer signing herself up for a tournament.

“She’s just so sweet, and pretty, and her voice is so nice-”

“You’re calling me to ramble about your crush of the month?”

“Well, yeah... But she’s not just someone I’ll forget about anytime soon! She’s different from the other guys I see at the gym. I just look at her and think, man, I want to hold you for hours near a warm fireplace, ya know?”

“That’s so cheesy, I think I’m gonna go throw up now.”

“It’s true, though…”

“Just keep talking to her, Summer. There. That’s my advice. Don’t jump into things too early, try getting to know her first. And next time, can you not call me at nine o’clock at night on a whim? I was working.”

“Yeah… I’ll probably do that. Thanks for listening, though. Sorry to bother you.” Summer hangs up, burying her face in her pillow. She figured it would be better to sleep on everything, but before she closes her eyes, her phone buzzes. She picks it up, displaying a text from Claire.

_‘The club manager just called me back; you’re on the roster now. The fight happens in two days from now at 11 p.m., below Seastar Bar & Grill. Ask the bartender if they serve lemon scones. They’ll take that as the code phrase and let you on the lower floor where it’s taking place. Bring your boxing gloves, I hope to see you there soon.' _

And before Summer goes back to sleep, she thinks- what did she get herself into?


	3. Cookies Taste Better than Morphine, I Assure You

For the past two days, Summer couldn’t get her mind off of the underground tournament. Who was she up against? Would she be able to beat them? How much money would she make if she won? Was it possible to die-

Spike’s voice snaps Summer out of her thoughts.

“Hello? Earth to Summer?”

“Y-yes Coach. Sorry.” Summer continues her squats, roughly estimating how many she had left to do. Spike squints at her, crossing his arms.

“Summer, you’ve been acting strange lately. What’s going on?”

“Uh, college.” Summer blurts out, “College work is getting tough.”

“I see.”

Their conversation ends, but Spike isn’t satisfied with Summer’s answer. He tries again as Summer moves on to the punching bag.

“Summer, I’ve known you for four years. I can tell when you’re lying to me about something.”

“Why would I lie to you about college being hard?” Summer laughs nervously.

“Hm, well, you tell Jada everything. If I ask her, would she confirm that you’ve been staring into space for the entire morning because of some homework?” 

“Yeah...” Summer continues punching the bag, failing to meet Spike’s eyes. She knows that Jada has no clue what she's gotten into.

“You can talk to me if you need me to beat someone up for you, okay? If anyone’s hurting you, come to me. Got that, pal?”

“I know.”

“I’m looking out for you, Summer. Don’t be stupid. Don’t get into trouble.” Spike leaves their conversation at that, clearly not believing her lie. Summer eventually finishes training, heading over to the locker room to change clothes, since she planned to go out instead of return home. Inside, she meets up with Jada.

“Hiii!” Summer grins.

“Hey.” Jada nods, acknowledging her. She’s hunched over the sink, splashing her face with water.

“So… I’m meeting up with Claire tonight-”

“You got a date with her? Already?” Jada looks over to her, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, no. I’m just…” Summer frantically thinks for a response that wasn’t ‘ _I’m fighting illegally tonight and Claire happens to be there_ ’ so she comes up with the next best response. “Having some drinks with her.”

“So, a date?”

“No, it’s different.” Summer huffs.

“Alright. Carry on with what you were saying.”

“Well, I’m meeting up with Claire tonight and want to get her some flowers, but the florist is too far to bike to-” Summer gets cut off by Jada once more.

“Okay, wait a second. First of all, how is this not a date when you’re getting her flowers and everything? And second of all, you’re asking for another ride?”

“It’s more of a thank-you gift. And yeah, I’m asking for a ride…” Summer admits as she changes into her blouse.

“Buy me a cup of frozen yogurt from my favorite place after. Deal?” Jada offers.

“Deal.” Summer nods.

“Finish getting dressed. I’ll wait for you outside and throw your bike in the back or something.”

“Thanks a lot! I’ll be quick.” Summer calls out after Jada as she leaves the locker room.

  
  


They’ve spent fifteen minutes at the florist’s so far, and Summer still hasn’t decided what to get Claire from the selection of arrangements. 

“Aww, these come with little teddy bears inside! That’s so cute!” Summer gasps, gently picking up one of the bouquets on display.

“Get them, then,” Jada grumbles, entertaining herself with her phone.

“I don’t know… what do you think? The teddy bear ones have a lot more yellow, but this other one comes with pink azaleas and I’m pretty sure that’s her favorite flower…”

“Look, Summer. They’re both flowers to me. I don’t see the difference.”

“I’m gonna go get a custom one arranged.” As Summer chats with the florist, Jada is starting to feel like a child waiting for their mom to finish talking to a friend. They gush about flowers together as Summer explains what she wants. A few more minutes pass; the florist ties together a bouquet with pink azaleas and teddy bear decorations. After what felt like an eternity, Summer and Jada finally leave the shop. Summer holds the bouquet in one hand, grinning from ear to ear

“I hope your girlfriend appreciates the time we spent picking out flowers wrapped in paper and twine.” Jada huffs as they both get in the car. Summer holds the bouquet with care in her lap.

“It wasn’t that long, you’re just being dramatic.” Summer snorts, “Hey, do you mind dropping me off at her house after we get your frozen yogurt?”

“Fine.” Jada pulls out of the parking space, driving to the frozen yogurt place down the street.

Jada drives them to Claire’s house, frozen yogurt cups in hand. Jada holds the cup in one hand, digging into the treat.

“So,” Summer talks with her mouth full, “I hope I haven't asked enough favors from you, but if I don’t come back, could you tell Spike to take care of Mango for me?”

“What do you mean by don’t come back?” Jada raises an eyebrow, “This is just a night out at the bar, right?”

“Um, y-yeah, I’m just saying. Just in case.”

“Alright then…” Jada slows the car down as they reach Claire’s house, “Don’t get kidnapped, or whatever you’re worried about.”

“Thanks!” Summer grabs the bouquet, hopping out of Jada’s car and getting her bike out of the back. She trots up to Claire’s porch with a spring in her step as Jada drives away. Summer knocks, and after a minute, the door opens.

“Summer!” Claire greets her at the door with a smile, wearing an apron dusted with flour, “Nice to see you! Oh my, are those for me?” 

“Hi, Claire! And yep, these are for you! Thanks for being so nice to me back there.” Summer giggles as she hands her the bouquet.

“These are so cute! Come on in, you gotta help me pick the right vase for this.” Summer nods, following Claire inside. This time around, her house is warm and smells like a small-town bakery. Maya chops pecans on a cutting board and gathers them all into a bowl. She looks up, waving shyly, and returns to chopping. Summer waves back to her.

“What are you guys making?” Summer asks as Claire sets the bouquet down on a table.

“Pecan Pie! It’s a favorite of ours; I always make it on fight nights as a treat.” Claire explains as she sets down two vases, “Alright, which one? Blue or yellow?”

“Ooh, I like the yellow one.” 

“Good choice, I like it too. It reminds me of you.” Claire winks, laughing, and Summer feels butterflies in her stomach again. Claire turns to gently place the bouquet in the vase, setting it down on the table.

“Well, thanks for inviting me inside, but I better get going. The bike ride to the bar is pretty long, and I need to stop at home first to get my things.” Summer shrugs.

“You’re already here, aren’t you? You can just stay for a while and just carpool with me to the bar later. I could also use an extra hand with baking.” Claire smiles.

  
  


And so Summer did stay. She helped Claire and Maya make pies, getting to know them better as the afternoon went on. After the pies were done, they settled on making dinner together. Summer felt at home with Claire and Maya, in a way she never felt anywhere else. 

They ended the day with a movie before Summer's big match. Summer curled up on Claire’s couch with a blanket she gave her, yawning. She forgot what the movie was about of course since she fell asleep halfway through.

“Psst- Summer.”

Summer wakes up from her nap thanks to Claire booping her nose.

“We’re leaving for the fight soon, are you ready to go?”

“Ah, yep.” Summer yawns, “Thanks for letting me stay.” Claire helps her up, and they leave to her car outside after saying goodbye to Maya. 

“Ready for your big fight, Summer?” Claire sits down in the driver’s seat.

“Honestly, I’m pretty nervous. But it’s also exciting.” Summer sits down next to her.

“I’ll be cheering for you in the crowd. I’m sure you can win.”

“Hopefully… And if I don’t, I hope the injuries aren’t too bad.”

“You don’t have to confine yourself to official rules anymore. Don’t forget that. Kicking, punching below the belt, throwing, all that stuff is allowed.”

The drive isn’t that long, but Summer gets more and more anxious as time goes on. She swallows nervously as they reach the bar, parking, and hopping out. The bar is rather busy at this hour, and Claire holds Summer’s hand to guide her through the crowd. Even when they reach the bartender, Claire doesn’t let go. Claire can tell that Summer is anxious, so she squeezes her hand tightly and brings Summer back to reality. It’s a comforting feeling, and Summer doesn’t want to let go.

“Hey there, do you serve lemon scones?” Claire asks. The bartender squints at them.

“Who’s asking?” Comes his reply.

“Claire Sanchez and Summer Dunn.”

“We should have some in the back, follow me.” The bartender sets down a glass, leading them through the backdoor. Through the door, they’re brought down a stairwell. The second door at the bottom of the stairs is locked, but the bartender gets out a key and lets them inside. The door is shut behind them as soon as they’re in.

“Oh, man…” Summer looks around the area. It’s packed with people. There are designated tables to bet on fighters, drinks are being passed around, and people are sparring in practice rings. Music blares from the overhead speakers as they head further inside.

“We made it just in time. They’re finishing up the match right before yours.” Claire mentions. Summer approaches the ring where she’s supposed to queue up. A man lays unconscious on the floor, bleeding from a gash on his head. But before she can get a better look, Claire lets go of Summer’s hand and starts to disappear into the crowd.

“Good luck, Summer. You can do it.”

Summer barely hears Claire’s voice, fear coursing through her veins. What did she get herself into? Was she just being a wimp? But her fear is justified as she sees her opponent on the other side of the ring.

A man much taller than her, well above qualifications for the heavyweight class, slides on his gloves behind the ring. He carries his injuries from previous fights as if they were medals, displaying them proudly to the cheering crowd. 

_“Bouts can range from evenly matched to completely one-sided.”_

Claire’s words echo in Summer’s head. She feels trapped. She couldn’t fight this man. She needed to leave. Run. Run, Summer, get out of there. Why couldn’t she move? Why couldn’t she turn around and leave? Was it a sense of obligation? Was she paralyzed in place by fear? Before she can make a choice, the announcer takes the mic.

“WE HAVE A NEW CHALLENGER, FIGHTING AGAINST OUR FAVORITE AND LONG RUNNING CHAMP IN THE RED CORNER, EDDIE M! IN THE BLUE CORNER, WE HAVE THE SCAREDY CAT, SUMMER ANNE DUNN!”

Blue corner. That was where Claire was when she fought Summer. Where was Claire? Why wasn’t she stopping this? Or maybe she was. She sees Claire frantically talking to the organizer, but nothing seems to be getting through. Ah, so her fate was sealed then.

“READY?”

She wasn’t ready. She wanted to leave. But against her will, her feet go into a battle stance. She puts her fists up in the air, wanting to minimize the damage that would be done to her. Could she fake fainting early? Would that save her? But she couldn’t plan anymore. Her time was up.

The bell rings.

They meet in the middle, and Summer blocks as many of Eddie’s jabs as she can to no avail. Multiple jabs get through, sending flares of pain throughout her body. She starts retreating but tries to uppercut him. He catches her wrist in his hands, twisting it.

Summer cries out in pain, but she’s drowned out by the cheering of the crowd. She can’t think. All she knows is that she’s in danger, and she needs to evade as many attacks as possible. She throws herself towards Eddie, grabbing him in a clinch. This time around, there’s no referee to break them apart, so maybe it could buy her more time to recover. Her feet drag on the floor as she attaches herself to her opponent, utterly desperate. It makes her look pathetic, but she couldn’t care less.

All of a sudden, his gloves dig into her back, and she’s thrown off of him. She hits the floor, dazed, but shakily tries to stand up on two feet. The room spins and she almost falls back down again, but she holds onto the ropes to avoid that. She needed to stop, when would the round end?

But she forgot that there was only one round. And it only stopped if one of them was knocked unconscious. This was more than a match, it was more than sparring. It was life or death at this point. She knew fight clubs had a mortality rate. There was no paramedic on the scene, no doctor, hell, not even a physician. 

Eddie grabs her from the corner where she’s trying to steady herself, throwing her into the center of the ring. She coughs, trying to regain the air that was knocked out of her. But he’s relentless, picking her up by the throat. It’s brutal, Summer thinks, as he lands a heavy uppercut on her face. Blood starts streaming from her nose, trickling into her mouth. She couldn’t take any more.

She’s tapping out. She’s trying to forfeit, to give up, to lose. Why was nobody stopping the match? Is nobody seeing her sign of surrender?

Another jab strikes her head, and her vision is going spotty. He still has her by the throat, heavily restricting her airflow. 

Another strike. Summer wants to scream, to cry, but the lack of air doesn’t let her. She could have sworn someone was yelling to stop the match. Maybe it was Claire, but Summer couldn’t tell in her state.

Another strike. Summer mouths the words STOP, but her opponent- no, her attacker- doesn’t heed her words. She’s lifted further, and he knees her in the stomach before throwing her to the ground. Her head hits the floor first, and everything goes fuzzy. She tries to breathe, but she’s too weak. She can see blood start to form a puddle beneath her head, and for some reason, she feels… sleepy. Suddenly, all the pain that she was feeling seems to go away. Her vision is fading, but she swears she can see Spike shoving his way through the crowd right before her vision goes black. 

  
  


_“Hold out your arm for me, I’ll clean it up.”_

_Summer sits outside of a convenience store that resides near her_ _fight club’s building. Spike, merely a stranger at the time, digs through the plastic grocery bag full of medical supplies that he just bought._

_“W-Why?”_

_“So that wound won't get infected.”_

_“No, I mean, why are you doing all this? I don’t know you, you don’t know me, and you just bought a ton of gauze and stuff like that just to patch me up?”_

_“I’m a coach for real boxers, kid. It breaks my heart to see capable kids like you waste their lives and get torn apart in fight clubs like these.”_

_“I’m not a kid, I’m eighteen- OW! That stings!” Summer hisses as Spike cleans off the gash in her arm with rubbing alcohol. He pulls out a box of large band-aids, taking one out and sticking it over the wound._

_“Stay still.” Spike moves on to her face, where she has multiple injuries and an infected gash from a previous match. “Geez. If I wasn’t here, that would have gotten a lot nastier.”_

_Summer scrunches her nose as he wipes her face down with another alcohol-soaked pad, gritting her teeth as it starts to sting once more. He gets out a smaller band-aid, applying it to a cut on her cheek._

_“So, what brings you to fight illegally at such a young age? Money? Fame?” Spike asks as he gets out another band-aid._

_“I don’t get paid. I just like fighting. I fought a lot in high school, so I do it here now that I've graduated. I don't get punished for fighting here, either.”_

_“Something happening at home?” Spike takes her other arm, examining her gashed knuckles._

_Summer doesn’t answer his question._

_“Too personal, I get it. But the only person who’s being punished here is you. Just look at yourself. I can see the botched stitch job on your cheek. You did that yourself, didn’t you?”_

_“It’s not a big deal. I have to do that all the time.” Summer looks away, not meeting his eye._

_“It shouldn’t be something you’re used to. Listen, do you have any other ambitions?”_

_“I want to keep fighting.” She answers stubbornly._

_“I can train you, then. You’re not going to go anywhere participating in these backyard fights. All the professionals you see on TV started with a coach and a pair of boxing gloves. So why don’t you start here?”_

_“You’re just trying to advertise your services. I don’t care. I can’t pay for it anyway.”_

_“If I was just another businessman, would I go out of my way to pay for front-row tickets to your fight, threaten the man running the club with shutting his dirty business down, and pay for a shitload of medical supplies that I probably won’t ever use again just to sell something to you? I’m not here to make money, kid. I’m here to help you.” Spike wraps Summer’s knuckles in gauze._

_“There’s a catch, isn’t there? Everything’s always too good to be true.” Summer starts tearing up, frustrated._

_“The catch is that I want you to go to college and earn good grades while I train you. Tell me, what do you want to study?”_

_Summer goes silent, thinking._

_“...Veterinarian. I want to study to be a veterinarian.”_

_“Then start attending a vet school. Ask me if you need someone to teach you how to sign up for scholarships. But besides that, the boxing gym is just down the street from here. I’ll take care of all of the fees and register you in the program. What’s your name, by the way?”_

_“Summer. Summer Anne Dunn.”_

_“That’s a nice name. Mine’s Spike. But from now on, you can call me Coach.”_

_Coach…_

“Coach?...” Summer croaks, opening her eyes. Her whole body is in pain, and she’s hooked up to several different machines. A scratchy gown drapes over her, and the room reeks of disinfectant. She blinks, adjusting her eyes to the light. A broad window illuminates the tiny hospital room, letting in daylight from outside. 

In the corner of the room, Spike is slumped over asleep in a chair. He must have stayed awake the whole night watching her. The ashtray on the table next to him is rather full, sitting next to a half-empty pack of cigarettes. Spike rarely smoked, and when he did, it was never as a treat. It was more of a tool to keep him sane when he was stressed.

“Coach…” Summer tries to speak, but her voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. She tries moving her arm, but the pain is next to unbearable, so she gives up. The least she can do is twitch her finger to press the ‘Call Nurse’ button, so she does.

After a few minutes, a nurse opens the door.

“Hey there, how are you feeling?” The nurse walks over to her bed, checking the numbers on the hospital machines that are meaningless to Summer.

“My whole body hurts.” She groans.

“At least you’re awake, that’s always a good sign. I’ll give you a painkiller in a moment, please hang tight.”

“How long have I been out?” Summer asks.

“You came in last night at around midnight. Right now, it's 11 o'clock in the morning. So, not too long.” The nurse brings a needle over to her, and Summer winces as she gets injected with a painkiller.

“You may feel a bit drowsy, okay? Please, call me if anything feels out of the ordinary. I’ll be checking up on you hourly.” The nurse starts to leave the room, but Summer calls her back.

“Can you wake him up? I want to talk to him.” She asks hoarsely, nodding in Spike’s direction.

“Of course.” The nurse walks over to Spike, tapping his shoulder, “Your friend is awake, she wants to talk to you.”

Spike lifts his head, murmuring something under his breath. He runs a hand through his hair and opens his eyes. 

“Summer!” Spike gets up, making his way to the side of her hospital bed. The nurse leaves the room, leaving her with Spike.

“I’m sorry.” Summer mumbled.

“What were you thinking?!” Spike scolded, “You could have been killed if I didn’t get there in time!” 

Summer stays silent as Spike continues grilling her. She knows it was deserved.

“After all this time, you went back? I thought fighting illegally was in the past! Why would you come back now?”

Summer doesn’t answer him.

“Actually, I know why. It was because of that chick you fought a few days ago, wasn’t it? The one that insisted on riding in the ambulance with me? Hell, she was the only one that knew you in the audience, so she must have been the one that pressured you into joining, huh?”

“She didn’t pressure me. I asked her to put me on the roster.” Summer admits, not meeting Spike’s eye.

“But why? Why would you put yourself through that?”

“The prize money was tempting.” She mutters, her lip quivering, “I know. I shouldn’t have signed up.”

“Do you know how awful it was for me to see you on death’s door? I had to watch you get resuscitated twice by paramedics on scene, and wait two hours outside the emergency room in fear that you weren’t gonna make it. You're like family to me at this point, Summer. I'm not just your coach.”

Spike pauses for a moment, wiping his eyes.

“Fight clubs have shitty medical practices, Summer, you should know that. If it wasn’t for that phone call I got, you would have died. The attendees would have done jack shit to help you. They never call 911 because their precious club would be brought to light and shut down.” 

“Phone call?” Summer tilts her head slightly.

“Some woman called me from your phone. She was all frantic and told me to get to the bar as fast as I could, explaining that you were getting your ass kicked in an unfair match. Thankfully I was close by, so I got there before the paramedics. I smashed your opponent’s skull in before carrying you outside to where the ambulance was parked. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Claire… Claire must have called you.” Summer fumbles over her words, getting drowsy from the painkiller.

“Is she the one who had ties to this club in the first place? Of course, she would also fight underground… that fighting style was borderline illegal.”

“Don’t… don’t blame her for it... “ Summer lets tears roll down her face, sniffling. She felt awful both mentally and physically; the drugs messing with her mind weren’t helping.

“Listen, I’m sorry I’m being so harsh all of a sudden, I didn’t mean to make you cry. You just had me extremely worried, Summer. Promise you’ll never fight like this again? No matter what?”

“I promise.” Summer murmurs.

Summer was sure that Spike had something else to say, but she falls into a drug-induced sleep before she hears his words. 

  
  


When Summer wakes up again, Spike is gone, and two new visitors are in his place. Jada leans against the wall with her arms crossed, and Claire sits with her head down. Jada is the first to notice Summer’s consciousness. 

“Summer! Christ, I thought you died.” Jada lets out a sigh, walking over to the side of her bed.

“I lived, bitch.” Summer laughs hoarsely.

“You live to mooch rides off me another day. I’d punch you for being stupid, but I feel like you’d die if I did." She shrugs.

“Yeah, I think I’m in enough pain for now.”

“Unfortunate. How’s the hospital food? Does hospital chicken taste like rubber?” Jada asks.

“I can’t tell you that; my food so far has consisted of painkillers and yummy saline fed through this thing.” Summer gestures to the butterfly needle connected to an IV drip in her wrist. “Ask me tomorrow or something when I’m not in a coma.”

“You’re eating like a king here, man.” Jada snorts, looking over her shoulder.

“So, do you want to say something, or are you gonna keep sulking in the corner in silence while I cheer up Summer?” Jada glares at Claire. She looks up from the corner, biting her lip as she gets up.

“Summer… I’m so, so sorry for getting you into this mess. I didn’t know who they were going to match you up with, and I tried to call the match off, but nobody listened to me. I don’t mean to make excuses- it’s my fault.” She ducks her head.

“Claire, don’t beat yourself up about it. I knew what I was getting into- I was the one being reckless-”

“NO, NO. You guys aren’t gonna start going back and forth apologizing. You both fucked up, and you both have to make amends.” Jada cuts them off, seething. 

“...You’re right. Sorry.” Claire lifts her head, “Hey Summer, what’s your favorite dessert?” 

“Uh, that’s a tough one… but if I had to pick, I’d choose snickerdoodles. Like, the really soft and chewy ones.”

And so two days later, when Summer is finally well enough to eat, Claire shows up daily with a fresh plate of home-baked snickerdoodles. They eat together in comfortable silence, enjoying the treat. It becomes a routine of sorts, giving Summer something to look forward to in her days of staring at the lime-colored walls and being injected with drugs daily.

About a week later, the day before Summer is discharged from the hospital, Claire shows up as usual. Summer is well enough to talk at this point, and exchanges friendly conversation with Claire as she eats the cookies.

“So, I was thinking. If you’re feeling up to it after you get out of the hospital, want to go out to dinner? I’ll treat you to something nice, not some cheap hospital food.” Claire offers, taking another bite out of the cookie in her hand.

“Like a… like a d-” Summer sputters.

“Date? Yeah.” Claire looks away bashfully. “Well, if you want to of course.”

“Claire- I’d love to! Uh, will you pick me up?”

“Course I will, give me a call.” Claire gets up, walking over to her. But before Summer can react, she leans down and gives her a peck on the cheek.

“Ciao.” Claire leaves, leaving Summer stunned in the hospital bed. She tentatively presses her hand to where Claire kissed her, her face turning red. 

For once, Summer could tell things were looking up for her.


End file.
